Love : Obsession
by Moirae333
Summary: [Formerly Believing You] After meeting on a battlefield, Ginny Weasley reflects on the relationship she had with Pansy Parkinson, and what she can do to make everything better. Femslash. Ginny x Pansy.


**Title: **Love : Obsession

**Rating: **PG-13

**Genre: **Dark Romance

**Spoilers:** Philosopher's Stone to Order of the Phoenix

**Period: **circa 1996 (Parkinson's sixth year)

**Pairings:** Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson

**Summary: **After meeting on a battlefield, Ginny Weasley reflects on the relationship she had with Pansy Parkinson, and what she can do to make everything better.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The plot, however, is created by the writer and is not to be replicated by another.

**Writer's Notes: **This ficlet, along with another entitled "Love : Passion" are part of a series focussing on love and the types of love. This one focuses on the obsession between two women, "Passion" is between two men, and there's a third I will eventually write which will be hetero. Thanks to Leslie for beta'ing this for me.

**Love**

_a pansy/ginny obsession _

Sometimes it hurt more then we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead.   
- Angel, "Passion, BtVS"

Do you understand what it means to be in love?

I can't imagine you do.

A creature of darkness can't understand simple moments and emotions that make life something worth saving. It's those seconds that you know you aren't truly dead. It's never the big moments that define existence. It's the small ones. Like the time you first looked my way and my thoughts washed away in a river of you. The times we raced simultaneously for the Quaffle and collided brooms, the shards of wood showering over us in a waterfall. You rinsed my face with the sand for appearance's sake but that night, you held me tight, pressed your ruby lips to my bare shoulder, and whispered over and over how you loved me.

Back then, I believed you.

But now I can't imagine that you've ever loved. You, as your Dark Master, hold people on the level of pawns. You finger both black and white till there is nothing left except the empty hollow of a life.

You weren't always like that, though. You couldn't have been. You may be Slytherin, but that's only the cloak you wear over the robes of who you are. I'm not as foolish as other people, I can see that. Houses are the outsides; they can't dictate who you love, what you become, who you are. You couldn't have always been evil. Evil doesn't glow, can't light the halls with a single smile and the flip of blonde curls.

But time flows and things pass.

That glow gradually vanished, disappearing at the end of your fifth year. But I was too deeply in love with you to be brought back to the shores. And I admitted this to you, and you nodded, smiled, leaned over and quickly pressed your lips to mine.

Over your sixth year, you confessed to me things that I never cared to hear. But coming from your mouth, it didn't seem so terrible.

One simple choice, that's all it took. You became a Death Eater and expected me to understand, or follow you. I don't know which. And then you laughed like it didn't matter, and we made love beneath a quilt of stars and a bottle of champagne. That would be the last night we spent with each other, for our sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts were interrupted by a war.

There are times I think I was grateful you fought opposite me, but it was never enough to hate you or forget what we had. If we survived, we would see each other again. Once the dust settled on an overused battlefield and Death's hands had raped the soldiers, we and our love would still be standing.

But then, I believed that.

The nights we were together . . . I thought they meant to you what they meant to me.

I was wrong. You easily found a new lover in some pointy-faced Death Eater.

Can you understand what you did? The pain you caused? I have time, so let me tell you.

You shattered my heart and spirit, crashed them to the floor and left the pieces for the house-elves to sweep away. I spend my days now wondering what it was I could have done differently. What it was that drove you away. You were everything--my hope at the end of that tunnel, the proof that things can be different, that some dreams have the possibility of coming true.

Sometimes, I fear I will awaken from a dream and realise that the greatest thing you could have ever done for me, was turn away from the light. Sometimes, I fear I will realise you never really did turn away; you were always there, hiding your face towards the shadows, your beautiful cerulean eyes watching both sides.

Once upon a time we met over a battlefield. I refused to kill you. I cried tears that soaked the bloodstained grounds and told you over and over how I loved you. And you turned, killing my brother and threatening me before you fled with your Dark Master.

I'm not you. I only refused to kill you once.

_I wonder if the angels will remind me of Pansy. _

_I wonder what Hell is like. _

**Do you know what it means to be in love?**


End file.
